Roy Earle: Johnny here has the biggest schlong in all of Hollywood, and the smallest gun. Or maybe that's the other way around. I forget. Johnny Stompanato: You're a real funny guy, Roy.

Cole Phelps: What have you got? Patrolman: Looks like an overdose. Roy Earle: Get away from him, Phelps. This is my case. Cole Phelps: Shut your fucking mouth. Since when does a bag man work a case? Roy Earle: I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product. [Phelps removes his gun and points it at Earle] Patrolman: Hey, Detective? Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand! Herschel Biggs: There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, son. Cole Phelps: Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country! He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 and into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naive enough or dumb enough to get involved in the Suburban Development Fund along with the mayor, D.A., Monroe, and a certain crooked cop. He was involved in the morphine heist, but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes it a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him and I will BLOW YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF! Roy Earle: You've finally lost it, partner. Cole Phelps: I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe. Your vast corrupt future is draining away as we speak. Roy Earle: I got better things to do than argue the rub with you. Cole Phelps: Stay with him until the coroner gets here. Make sure technical services bag the evidence. If you let this creep anywhere near it, I will come looking for you. Patrolman: Yes, sir. Herschel Biggs: You know, Phelps - you're not the worst asshole going around. Cole Phelps: Thanks, Herschel.